


Momentum

by wilddragonflying



Series: The Sorceress and the Griffin [1]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Body Horror, Courting Rituals, F/M, Fluff, Gift Giving, Inspired by Fanfiction, Mentions of graphic violence, in that a severed hand makes an appearance at one point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:41:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26804542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wilddragonflying/pseuds/wilddragonflying
Summary: Inspired by inexplicifics' wonderful Warlord AU, and a bit of a running gag inOh, Be For Me The Skyabout Ealdred courting Yennefer.Glacial this courting may be, but Ealdred would argue it's effective; Yennefer would argue that it was frustrating and vaguely annoying - but she can't deny its effectiveness, either.
Relationships: Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg/Ealdred (The Witcher)
Series: The Sorceress and the Griffin [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1957009
Comments: 11
Kudos: 228





	Momentum

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Oh, Be For Me The Sky](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26454292) by [inexplicifics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inexplicifics/pseuds/inexplicifics). 



Watching the Witchers of Kaer Mohren hunt down the mages who had protested using Triss’s new testing potion had given Yennefer a _lot_ to think about. She had known, logically, that Witchers were powerful, great warriors. That much was obvious to anyone who had spent any amount of time within Kaer Mohren, any time observing them. The training grounds were always full; Witchers hated to be still, and their favorite past time seemed to be attempting to murder each other in increasingly creative ways. Yennefer generally gives the training grounds a wide berth, but especially so whenever the Cranes are testing out new weapons. They seem to think that anything and everything can be improved upon, which is an attitude that Yennefer can appreciate, but… Their _methods,_ she feels, could use some work. 

Back to the matter at hand, though - Yennefer had lead several sorceresses and sorcerers from Aretuza and Ban Ard to Kaer Mohren to follow the most promising ruler the Continent had seen in centuries, seeking protection and power both. She’d found both more and less than she’d bargained for in Geralt, the White Wolf. Protection, oh yes; as long as she was not so stupid as to anger the White Wolf, to cross the lines he drew in the sand, she was protected. Nothing and no one could touch her if she did not want them to.

Power, on the other hand… Well, there was certainly power to be had as left hand of the Wolf, as his lead magical advisor. The problem is, he’s just so… fucking _good._ He doesn’t _want_ to conquer the territories that he does; he doesn’t _want_ power for its own sake. He wants to _protect_ people, human and non-human alike, and the longer she spends around him, the more Yennefer finds that she can’t bear to let him down.

She perhaps goes and finds Eskel one night to bitch about such a thing. The ensuing conversation makes her think that Eskel may be the Wolf’s right hand, but… He knows the Wolf, knows his weaknesses - and he may be gentle, calm and serious, but Eskel is just as dangerous as Geralt, simply in a different way. It intrigues her, and she spends more time with the other Wolf Witchers to find that they’re all equally protective of their leader, moreso than simple loyalty can explain.

But observing the Wolves makes her curious about the other Witchers, and Yennefer starts observing them, as well. The Cranes are, as aforementioned, technically brilliant - but more than a little insane. The Cats are practically feral in their protection of their members, she finds the one time she tags along on a hunt for an archgriffin - she is never going to turn down an opportunity to personally harvest ingredients that rare - and watches Aiden all but rip one of the archgriffin’s wings off when it knocks Cedric senseless for a moment with a lucky hit to the head. The Bears are astonishingly sturdy - and loyal, too, though they aren’t as overt in their affections or displays of loyalty. The Manticores are a group of kindred spirits to Triss; they deal in poisons, and Yennefer often finds Triss taking notes on their newest poisons, suggesting improvements as well as potential antidotes.

The Vipers intrigue Yennefer, but none of them are very forthcoming the few times she attempts to engage one of them in conversation, and she sets the project of studying them to the side for the moment. With the recent purge of Witcher-aligned sorcerers, now is not the time to push where she is clearly not welcomed. 

The School that confuses Yennefer the most, however, is the School of the Griffins. They have the slitted eyes, the Signs, the mutations that all Witchers have - but they are so damn _chivalrous._ It boggles her mind, frankly; if they weren’t Witchers, Yennefer could easily see each and every one of these blasted Griffins being knights in a court somewhere, pledging their sword to lord and land, to protect those who cannot protect themselves, roaming the lands and solving problems atop white steeds in shining armor. But they aren’t knights, they’re Witchers; their steeds are varied colors, their armor is sturdy, hardened leather, not metal, and they wield two swords, not a sword and a shield, nor a lance or pike. Quite frankly, if Yennefer didn’t know any better, she would think that _Geralt_ was a Griffin. 

It’s during another hunt - the reports are unclear whether it is a creature or a rogue mage, which is why Yennefer goes with Geralt, Vesper, and a Griffin - that she meets Ealdred. A Griffin medallion hangs about his neck, and he’s… _bafflingly_ polite. If anyone were this polite to her in Aretuza, Yennefer would have assumed they were going to try to hex her. But no, Ealdred just - He just _is_ that polite, that much of a goddamn _gentleman._ He makes sure, as they travel through the woods surrounding the tiny village that Yennefer had portaled them to, to stay close enough to Yennefer that any monster that may jump out of the trees wouldn’t be able to reach her - her reflexes are good, but not _Witcher_ -good - but he doesn’t smother her, either. He isn’t stepping on her heels, and isn’t using his self-assigned duty to watch over her as an excuse to invade her space while Geralt and Vesper roam out to the sides of their path, looking for clues as to what they’re hunting.

He’s a perfect goddamn gentleman, and when the bruxae get the jump on them, he throws himself in front of her, throwing a Quen over them both while Yennefer calls her magic to her hands. As soon as she’s armed, however, Ealdred lets the shield drop, and falls into place behind her, his back to hers as they work to finish off the three creatures that attacked them. Geralt and Vesper come back just as Yennefer incinerates the last body, ichor staining their armor and more bruxae heads hanging from their hair in their grasp. Yennefer is distracted interrogating Geralt and Vesper as to what they’d seen, if there was any chance of more bruxae in the woods, and she doesn’t pay attention to Ealdred rummaging through their packs where they’d dropped, assuming that he was looking for the cloth he’s now using to clean his blades.

It’s not until she’s back in her workshop in Kaer Mohren that she finds the vials of bruxae blood, vials that she most definitely did not collect. She chalks it up to Ealdred assuming that, as a mage, she would have an interest in any potential magical effects of the blood. He’s right, of course, if that _was_ his motivation, but Yennefer has no intention of asking him. 

Too much chivalry gives her hives.

* * *

Yennefer has been up for almost three days straight, trying to get this _damned_ spell to work. 

Kaer Mohren has grown in the past few years, not swiftly, but steadily. There are more humans here, and a few more Witchers who have completed their Trials, and even a couple of fledgling mages that had sought sanctuary with the Wolf rather than go to Aretuza or Ban Ard. Yennefer had declined any great hand in their teaching; she will be busy enough, she knows, once Cirilla’s magic begins manifesting, which will be soon. Every time she goes near Ciri, Yennefer can practically _feel_ the Chaos coming off of her.

But with Ciri’s magic looming, and the new trainees, it’s come to Yennefer’s attention that Kaer Mohren is _desperately_ lacking in magical protections. Being as isolated as it is, tucked away in the mountains, is a definite advantage - but only against human armies. Should mages decide to attack Kaer Mohren, should the Brotherhood or Aretuza take offense at the sanctuary and tutelage they are now giving… 

Kaer Mohren is her fucking _home_ now, more than even Aretuza was. She will not let it fall - she will let her Chaos consume her in its defense rather than see it fall.

The problem, is that Kaer Mohren is so large, and so well-established, that not only does Yennefer need to craft these protections to fit in the _mages’_ magic, she needs it to fit around the Chaos that the keep has soaked in for centuries. Witcher Signs aren’t the same as spells, but Chaos still permeate the keep, has changed and charged it, evident to anyone sensitive enough to Chaos. Trying to craft the perfect spell, to take bits and pieces from the protections she already knows and then improvise the inevitable gaps, has begun to consume Yennefer, and she knows she should sleep, that she will make far more progress when she _isn’t_ sleep-deprived and can think clearly, but the anxiety she would never admit to won’t let her, keeps her awake with thoughts and fears and nightmares of Kaer Mohren burning, sacked, reduced to rubble and bone - 

A knock on her workshop door interrupts her mental spiral, and it takes Yennefer far longer than she would like to admit to make her limbs cooperate and take her to the door. By the time she opens it to an empty hallway, she thinks she’s reached the stage of sleep-deprivation that includes hallucinations; it would be a solid theory, but it’s disproven when she realizes there’s a rather tantalizing scent coming from around the small table just to the left of the door. Blinking, Yennefer is more than a little thrown by the tray there - finger sandwiches, some fruit, and a still-steaming cup of tea. 

Carefully, Yennefer picks it up and brings it to the largest clear space in her workshop. The tea, when she sniffs it, turns out to be chamomile, with some other spices she can’t identify right away. Lifting the cup reveals a small note, in handwriting she doesn’t recognize.

_Sleep, Lady Yennefer. Even the most powerful need their rest._

Squinting suspiciously, Yennefer casts a quick identification spell, searching for any potions or poisons in the food - but they’re completely and utterly ordinary, and she feels briefly foolish for her paranoia. Who could get away with poisoning anyone in Kaer Mohren, much less _her?_

She eats first, the sandwiches and fruit settling her stomach and calming the vague shaking in her limbs that she hadn’t even noticed before now, and she takes the cup of tea with her to the couch she keeps in her workshop for just such times as this.

She never does identify the other spices, but she _does_ manage to finish the cup before she falls asleep.

* * *

“Gods fucking _damn_ you, Geralt, you’d better live,” Yennefer whispers fiercely, safe within Geralt’s tent; the battle has been won, and Yennefer _didn’t_ go off and destroy everyone who ever dared _think_ about raising a weapon against her lover, but Geralt still wasn’t awake. There are sounds outside of the tent, Witchers and mages and the humans who have sworn themselves to the Wolf doing - whatever it is that needs doing after a battle such as this. Eskel is likely keeping the army in order, taking care of wounded and dead on both sides. Vesemir is probably helping him, and Triss is deeply asleep in a cot next to Geralt’s, drained with the effort of magically sewing him back together after such a devastating blow.

Yennefer is drained, too; she’d helped Triss remove the cursed blood that had coated the blade, that had kept Geralt’s advanced healing from working as it should have, had kept him bleeding and on death’s door, before she’d gone out to support the army, to do _something_ that wasn’t what she’s doing now, sitting and staring at an unconscious Witcher and begging him to wake up, not for her own sake, but for his family’s and his people’s. 

There’s a knock on the near the door, and Yennefer startles, turning to see one of the humans - Alaina, she thinks she recalls this particular herbalist’s name being - coming in with the next batch of potions for Geralt, and a tray. “This is for you, my lady,” she says, depositing the tray on the table closest to Yennefer. “If you’re to stay with our lord, you must eat so you can watch him most effectively.”

Yennefer hums an idle noise, gaze falling on the tray - and she blinks, then looks at Alaina with a raised eyebrow. “Why,” she asks slowly, unable to decide whether to be amused or disgusted, “is there a severed hand on this tray?”

Alaina has no such uncertainty; she looks and sounds completely disgusted. “One of the Witchers gave it to me, told me to bring it to you,” she answers. 

The amusement starts to win out. “ _Why?_ ”

“He said that it was the hand that attempted to slay the Wolf,” Alaina says. “He thought you’d appreciate it as a gift.”

Yennefer blinks. “Hm,” she says - dear gods, Geralt is rubbing off on her too much - and looks back up at Alaina. “Did this Witcher give you his name?”

“No,” Alaina says, shaking her head as she sets out the potions Triss had prescribed for Geralt. “I was rather distracted, I’m afraid, my lady.”

Yennefer chuckles. “Of course,” she hums, nudging the plate with the severed hand to the side. She doubts its owner still lives, but… Well, with flesh and blood, Yennefer can wreak _quite_ a lot of havoc.

A pity she can’t thank this mystery Witcher for the opportunity for some revenge.

* * *

Yennefer pauses, blinking in shock, as she pushes open the door to her office. She’s _certain_ that she had cleared her desk before going down to lunch. She’s shaken from her stupor as Ciri pokes her head around her skirts, and then gasps. “Aunt Yen! Those flowers are beautiful!” She darts forward, and Yennefer barely manages to snag the back of her shirt. 

“Beautiful, and deadly, little cub,” she says. “Those aren’t just flowers; they’re oleander shrubs.”

“Oh,” Ciri says, and takes a careful step back. “How are they poisonous?”

“If I mix them into a potion, they are deadly,” Yennefer says, stepping forward so she can inspect the shrubs and their pots. She _had_ put in an order for a few shrubs, one of the last that Kaer Mohren’s expansive gardens was missing, but the last she had heard, the horticulturist she spoke to had no cuttings left, and it would be another year before she had any sturdy enough to make the trek to Kaer Mohren. 

“What about outside of a poison?” Ciri asks, her curiosity fully piqued, and Yennefer quickly changes her afternoon plans.

“Well,” she says, using a small amount of magic to carefully lift the pots out of the way, “most of the time, they will make you very very sick, lightheaded, and may even cause heart problems, sometimes even stopping it.”

Ciri’s eyes are wide, but she still pays careful attention as Yennefer starts them on her new topic for the day - poisons, the plants they are derived from, and their effects.

* * *

Alright, this is getting ridiculous. Who the _hell_ keeps sneaking into her office and leaving these gifts?

First the oleander shrubs - Yennefer had confirmed with her contact that they had not come from her - and then more mutagens and alchemical ingredients, often delivered in carefully-labeled packages and vials, still fresh from hunts. It has been years now, but she has not been able to find a common thread in those who have been _on_ those hunts. It’s starting to drive her a little crazy, especially because _notes_ have started accompanying the gifts, ever since Jaskier came to Kaer Mohren. 

Yennefer would think she’s being courted, but - Why the hell not declare their interest, after all this time? Why the _secrecy?_

This latest gift is a small basket of treats, with a - a _book_ tucked into the basket as well. It’s a poetry book, and the paper sticking out of the top reads, _My apologies that this is not quite to my usual standards. I assure you, the next gift will be much better, and far more useful._

Yennefer doesn’t realize she’s smiling softly until she catches herself running her thumb over the tiny sigil that has marked the past dozen notes - a tiny identifying mark, similar to a crest on a wax seal. Shaking her head, Yennefer finally decides that it’s time to take matters into her own hands; she needs to know who’s sending these gifts, and she needs to know what they fucking _want._

Unfortunately, the first spell she tries leads her out of the keep, and with Geralt still moody over having had to take over Temeria and all of the usual problems absorbing a new holding, she can’t leave to track them down. She sighs, puts her tools away, and resolves to try again in a week.

In the meantime, there’s no sense in letting lavender-honey candies go to waste.

* * *

Two days after Oliwia joins Kaer Mohren - and Yennefer places a bet with Milena and Jaskier about when she and Dragonfly will get over themselves - Yennefer finally gets a result from her tracking spell that she can act on. There wasn’t a gift last week, which falls in line with her conclusion that whoever is responsible was out on patrol. She already has a hunch as to who she’ll find - there was only one patrol that got back within the last few days, and she only knows one of the Witchers who was on it.

Following the pendulum in her hand through Kaer Mohren’s halls leads Yennefer towards the training grounds, but she finds her quarry before she gets more than halfway there.

Ealdred is coming from the other end of the hall, and he has a leatherbound book in his hand - and when Yennefer steps in his path, his eyes go wide, even as he takes a respectful step back and bows. “Yennefer,” he says, giving her a brilliant smile. “You look like a sorceress on a mission, my lady.”

Yennefer raises an eyebrow. “Because I am,” she answers. “What do you have in your hands?”

Ealdred’s smile falters, his expression turning _sheepish._ “Ah, well. I have a… delivery to make.”

Yennefer hums, looking at him intently. “Where?”

Ealdred hesitates, and then brings the book out from behind his back. “To you, my lady.”

Even though she’d been expecting it, it still catches her by surprise, the fact that _he_ is the one who’s been leaving her gifts that half made her doubt her own memory. Still, Yennefer doesn’t take the book from him yet. “Why?” she demands, crossing her arms over her chest and raising her chin. “What game are you playing?”

Ealdred’s expression turns surprised. “‘Game’?” he echoes. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

“You’ve been leaving me gifts with unsigned notes for years, and then you started leaving me notes with an identifying mark that no one recognized, but never your name, and you never _speak_ to me, only sneak into my office and my workshop and leave your offerings! What. Game. Are you. _Playing?_ ” Yennefer snarls the last words, shifting her stance until her hands are clenched into fists by her side, and she can feel Chaos stirring beneath her skin.

Ealdred seems unfazed - if anything, he seems _sad._ “Ah. I’m afraid I had not considered the implications of my actions,” he murmurs. “I must beg your forgiveness then, Lady Yennefer; I had no ill intent, only to assist you, and to perhaps bring you some measure of happiness with the more… frivolous gifts.”

Yennefer frowns. “Then what _was_ your intent?” she asks, blunt. “If you wanted a fuck, you could have just said so. And generally, if someone wants to _court_ another person, they announce their intention _before_ leaving gifts - and they don’t leave them anonymously.”

“You’re the most powerful sorceress in the keep,” Ealdred says. “Next to the cub, though she’s not yet fully trained. You are the Wolf’s left hand, and his most trusted mage - you deserved every respect that I could give you.”

“And how could I know that you were giving me that respect?” Yennefer counters. “I had no idea that _you_ were the one behind these gifts.”

“... Ah. I had… thought you could scry that,” Ealdred says. “Or that someone would tell you that I had requested they bring back a shipment from a village, or ingredients from their hunts.”

“No one told me anything,” Yennefer says, frowning. “They insisted it was a surprise. I believe Letho even said that he had money riding on when I’d figure it out, the bastard.”

Ealdred snorts, offering Yennefer a smile. “He is,” he agrees. “Why… didn’t you scry?”

Yennefer doesn’t answer for a long moment. “Because my talents do not lie with divination, and I did not want to admit to Istredd that I did not know who it was,” she finally sighs. “And you still have not told me what your intent was.”

Ealdred blinks, caught off-guard, and then he laughs. Still smiling, he holds the book out to her again - Yennefer is surprised to see that he’s holding a copy of a spellbook that she thought only existed in Aretuza’s library, that she had been bemoaning the loss of to Jaskier during a meal more than three months ago - and bows over it. He holds her gaze, and Yennefer can read the sincerity in his voice as he says, “My lady Yennefer, master sorceress, and left hand of the White Wolf, it would be the highest honor if you would allow me to court you.”

Yennefer had half-expected him to back down, but she should have remembered that Griffins are, perhaps, the second most stubborn School after the Wolves. Still, it’s not the gift that moves her, it’s the earnestness in his voice and the admiration and open vulnerability in his eyes.

“Ealdred of the School of the Griffins, Witcher under the White Wolf,” she says slowly, reaching for the book, and letting her hand linger over his, “I accept your suit. You may court me, and we will… see what we make of each other.”

Even when she had thought she loved Geralt as more than family, Yennefer’s heart had never skipped a beat. And yet, it does at the sight of Ealdred’s delighted smile.

Interesting.

* * *

Jaskier absolutely _delights_ in teasing Yennefer about her relationship with Ealdred, which is still developing at an incredibly slow pace, but Yennefer only lets him get away with it because he only does so in private, when it’s their usual small group in the springs in the morning. The others join in occasionally, but while Yennefer would have bristled years ago, now she only laughs, and teases her friends in turn about their lovers.

Still, a year after she first accepted Ealdred’s suit, Yennefer finds herself debating whether to go to Jaskier for advice. Ealdred has not stopped giving her gifts, though now the gifts are more likely to be Yennefer’s favorite treats and flowers, presented to her when they meet to spend an afternoon together, often in the library or the keep’s garden, Ealdred wandering with Yennefer while she gathers herbs and flowers for her potions and experiments, and then she follows him while he gathers ingredients for his own uses.

They’ve learned quite a lot about each other over the past year, including that when they fight, they are both vicious. Ealdred may be a Griffin, but he is _proud,_ and Yennefer has never learned to not fight dirty when she is hurting, when she is wrong-footed. She half-thinks that their first major fight will be the end of things between them when Ealdred leaves her workshop. Thus, she’s surprised when Ealdred finds her the next day, and asks to talk about what they had fought about the previous day - and, in a different frame of mind, they manage to talk through things they had shouted about the night before. It’s a pleasant surprise, that they could have such a conversation, and walk away from it feeling better than before, and Yennefer slowly starts to think that perhaps - perhaps this is not lunacy. Perhaps they could make this work. 

They’ve weathered more such fights since then, and yet…

Well, they’ve yet to kiss, much less do anything else. 

It has been _years_ since Yennefer’s had a properly satisfying fuck, but - That’s not all that she wants from Ealdred, she realizes one night. She doesn’t just want to fuck him - though frankly, she _is_ a little miffed that it hasn’t happened yet, because he is a _very_ attractive man, and her own hands and enchanted toys are only so effective. No, Yennefer finds that she wants _more,_ that she wants to spend quiet evenings in Ealdred’s chambers, or in hers, curled up together in front of a fire or on the bed, each of them absorbed in their own reading as they so often end up in the library, though they are in separate chairs, then. She wants the simple, easy affection that Milena and Lambert share, that Jaskier, Geralt, and Eskel trade without thinking. 

She would have been terrified by this want, this _need,_ even two years ago. To have this vulnerability around Geralt, or Jaskier, or Cirilla - that was one thing. They were family. Ealdred had the potential to be - was very nearly _already_ \- so much more to her.

It comes to a head one night when they’re in a corner of the library. Ealdred is researching the Wolf School’s healing methods after Gweld had a bad reaction to one of the Griffin’s potions, and Yennefer is working on - some sort of paperwork that Jaskier had pressed into her hands and asked her to read over. She thinks it’s a missive from Aretuza, but quite frankly, she’s been so distracted lately that she hasn’t taken in a single word by the time Ealdred reaches out, touching her wrist lightly.

Yennefer jumps, and Ealdred gives her an apologetic look. “You seemed distracted,” he says. “Is something wrong?”

Yennefer debates with herself for only a moment before she blurts, “Are you not interested in sex?”

Ealdred pauses, blinks, and sits back in his chair. “That is… an unexpected question,” he says slowly. “May I ask what prompted it?”

Yennefer sighs. “You’ve not even kissed me, Ealdred, and it’s been a year. I was - wondering. I apologize, this has been on my mind for a while, and I haven’t slept properly for the past few nights.”

He smiles. “No apology needed, Yennefer,” he assures her. “I am interested in sex, but I’m more interested in _you_ , first and foremost. You have not given me any indication that you are interested in or ready for more than what we have. I wouldn’t say no, but I don’t wish to push, especially when I am content with how things are for now.”

Yennefer considers that for a moment - and then she takes a breath, and takes her courage in her hands. She sets the letter aside, and gets to her feet, moving closer and plucking the book from Ealdred’s hands, marking his page and setting it aside before she slides into his lap. She feels him go completely still beneath her, his hands hovering over her waist, not touching yet, as he searches her gaze. Yennefer reaches for his hands, sets them on her waist, and then slides her own over Ealdred’s shoulders. “I’m afraid I’m not content,” she murmurs. “You see, this blasted, irritating, stupidly handsome and _chivalrous_ Griffin has managed to capture my attention, giving me gifts of all kinds, including his time and attention. I’m rather selfish, though, and I want more. I want _everything._ ”

“Yennefer - “ Ealdred starts, something warm and damn near _reverent_ in his tone, but Yennefer needs to do this before she loses her courage.

“I want to give him a gift, too,” she says, her hands shifting until she can thread her fingers through his hair, lean in until her lips brush his as she speaks. “I want to give _him_ everything, and take everything he will give me in return.”

Ealdred lets out a soft sigh, the warmth of his breath ghosting across Yennefer’s lips as she watches his eyes slide closed. “He might just give you every part of himself,” he murmurs.

“And I’ll give him nothing less of myself in return,” she breathes - and closes the distance between them.


End file.
